Bittersweet Poetry : Poems of the week by Kulijekusuzyika Jr Nyambili and Edwina Muzunda

As we continue to promote Poetry in Zambia ; here are this weeks poems ,enjoy.

I DANCE & Cry by Kulijekusuzyika Jr Nyambili

 At dawn am awaken by the beat of an African rhythm

And my body is filled with enthusiasm

As though it’s a dream, yet so real

It’s the sound of the cradle of mankind; the true sound of Africa

Because everything begun in Africa

My hands clap, and my feet?? My feet so eager to stamp the ground on which my forefathers danced

As these my bare African feet stamp the ground

My surrounding is filled with dust and my spirit is awakened

The spirit of a true son of Africa

Lost in the rhythm, I open my eyes

Only to realize that am surrounded by a crop of sons and daughters of Africa

And we are lost in our traditions of rhythm

As we dance, I can feel the spirit of unity and love, a bond of peace and laughter

But suddenly! My laughter and joy is cut short

My enthusiasm turned into trembling

My laughter only seems to be but for a Limited time

Sons and daughters of my land in chains and pain

Famine in the midst of plenty, Hunger and strive when others big cars they drive

If I had a chance this pain I would shred and grind!! When we have sight we seem blind

In my humble compound what I hear is whaling and crying

Empty pots and thus empty stomach

Every day is a struggle, we struggle to survive and thus we weaken our muscle

Political masturbation and prostitution is the order of the day

They represent our interest so they say!

But for them, in our interest is a big car and allowances while our children are left to walk kilometers to get an education and health

What they say is in our interest I see it from the terraces

Am afflicted by disease but their luxury never seems to cease

They say they work for my interest but I struggle for my own rest

I would never survive if I lived with ease but with ease their wealth they increase

While our poverty, pain and disease is increase

Every day our people become diseased and deceased

Our women for year’s bed ridden, our men even worse! Our men even worse!

Our children die before five, while their children start school before five

Our children sit on logs in class! Their lap is their table

While their children sit on furnished sits and tables

In the midst of all this I will not stop to dance

Through my dance this pain I relive

I will not keep quiet I will speak

Through my poetry I will speak

Through my dance I will speak

As we pray for grace.

Amen!

 

IAM HIP-HOP by Edwina Muzunda

I am hip hop.

An element of the beatbox when my heart to every beat beats and to every sound skips.

Every step i make is a tiny foot in the shoe prints of the great who went ahead of me.

A history on my every path,some already created, most i’m creating.

Iam poetry. A striking resemblance between me and every word carefully picked to describe greatness, awesomeness, and everything in between.

The rhyming words describing how the bits of my life fall into place to make rhythm with the master’s plan for me. Iam every word used to stimulate varied emotions in myself,and all who care to be influenced.

Iam musical, lyrical, critical, stubborn & political. Argumantative and i think evrything is debateable. Maybe thats why im an advocate-of peace & justice; for the lost & voiceless,the weak and powerless.

Iam but a child.

With a constant need to be checked on,by a loving friend or a plotting foe.

A need for a spiritual guide and a need for a life coach.

A need for mentorship and for mentoring.

Iam many many things. A thousand things in one. A triune being, spirit soul body, as evidence of the triune God,father,son,Holy Spirit.

Iam just the created, @ my best when i exist in Him,in whom i live,breathe,move,and have my being.

Iam hiphop-every beat of my heart beats to every command of His.

Every step i take.a tiny foot in the path he ordains,in the prints he walked.

Iam bold and iam beautiful, because He makes me who iam.

 

By Kapa187